Really Good to See You Again
by Peabodythecat
Summary: Danny and Rusty...will they or won't they? After a long separation our heroes meet up in Pensacola for some well earned down time. It's quite a reunion.
1. Chapter 1

A/N - Post Plums Verse. AU where boys are in their 20's. They've been working separate jobs and haven't seen each other in a long time. It's quite a reunion.

A/N - Warnings: Slash. First time. Don't like, don't read. No violence. Some bad memories though. Also there's cursing.

A/N - Wishing so very, very badly that they were mine.

A/N - See end for more chit chat.

* * *

They agreed to meet in Pensacola. Danny had a house there. When he wasn't working, whether on "legitimate" cover job or _real_ work, he had a deep need to be by near the sea. A place that was only for escape and relaxation. Secluded and quiet, but just a quick boat ride across the bay for clubs, restaurants, music or anything else money could buy.

Rusty was headed back to the States from Egypt, where he'd spent the last year, doing something amazingly complex involving archaeology and foreign languages as the cover for a really long con. A year later, a dictator's cousin was a few million dollars poorer, and Rusty claimed he just wanted hot water, HBO and really good salsa. Pensacola suited him just fine.

The year was the longest they'd been apart since they'd met as kids on the Jersey Shore. Danny had been looking forward to the reunion for a long time. It was the only thing Danny had looked forward to in a long time.

It was getting harder and harder to play a normal businessman - his cover for his own really long con. One day was just like the other. One deal was just like the other. He was almost dead with boredom. He was even starting to think the con was not worth this tedium. Oh, he'll stay in as a favor to Reuben, but vows never again. After this he was running his own shows.

So when he heard from Rusty a couple of weeks ago, after a terrifying period of silence, Danny jumped at the chance to escape for a while. He took a month of vacation (the first he'd _officially_ taken) stocked the house with beer, whiskey, plenty of food, and every movie he could get his hands on.

Now Danny was lounging casually just outside the security checkpoint at the Pensacola Airport. He spotted Rusty right away and enjoyed watching him approach. His hair was longer, dark blond with sun streaks that definitely didn't come from a bottle. He was tanned and looked like he'd put on some muscle. But he was still lean and beautiful and ... and Danny felt a little frisson of _something_ at the sight of him.

Huh. This is new.

And when Rusty finally spotted Danny and made eye contact, blue eyes locking onto chocolate brown, Danny felt a jolt like electricity zap between them. It took a bit of effort to keep the cool, neutral expression on his face.

It took even more effort as Rusty approached. He paused right in Danny's space. A years worth of "I missed you, are you ok, I missed you too, how bad was it, God I missed you, I'm ok now, bad enough, so glad to be here, missed you, missed you" silently flashed between them.

And then in unison, they turned and walked shoulder to shoulder towards the exit. And if Danny's hand twitched imperceptibly, wanting to touch, to confirm, to reassure himself that Rusty was really here...well he just casually shoved his treacherous hands into his pockets.

Rusty grinned broadly when he saw what Danny was driving. The sleek, black convertible was sex on wheels. Danny threw the luggage in the trunk and tossed Rusty the keys. "All yours." A look of undiluted pleasure lit Rusty's face. Danny would give a lot too keep Rusty looking that way.

They didn't say much on the drive. Driving at speed with the top down didn't lend itself to intense conversation. Rusty was concentrating on coaxing every bit of performance out of the roadster and just enjoying himself. Danny was concentrating on Rusty. He watched his long fingers grip the leather gear shift and imagined what they'd feel like on his body. Strong, oh yeah. But not rough. He'd move those hands with confidence, coaxing, encouraging...

God, he better snap out of this. This was _Rusty_ he was fantasizing about. His oldest, dearest friend, who, yeah, had never hid his willingness to experiment with either sex, who was sensual and tactile and...oh god he was so fucked...

Rusty had never, ever, given Danny any reason to think he was attracted to him that way. Loyalty, friendship, and love...yes. They'd slept together, curled together for warmth, comfort, and simple companionship countless times before. Did Rusty love him? Of course he did. Resoundingly, yes. But no matter what other people thought, there's never been a sexual component before. Maybe other people hadn't been completely off base.

Because now, now Danny's hands trembled with the desire to touch Rusty. Feel smooth skin of his arms, rub his thumb against those lush lips. Because now, Danny suddenly was fascinated with Rusty's mouth. Expressive. Lush. Kissable.

Thank god. They'd arrived at the ferry. Hopefully the short ride across to the island would give Danny a chance to pull himself together.

* * *

Rusty had always been able to read Danny Ocean. He knew before Danny admitted it when his friend was upset, angry or in love. And it was mutual, as much a part of their friendship as finishing each other's sentences.

But when Rusty saw a look of naked desire flash across Danny's face at the airport, he thought that maybe the year apart had diminished or somehow changed his ability to read his friend. Because Danny just didn't swing that way. Oh he'd always been completely accepting of Rusty's bisexuality, but Danny Ocean was straight. A true zero on the Kinsey scale. Right? The possibility that there could be more made his stomach flip with nerves and excitement. Could it be true? He'd never allowed himself to think about it.

Well there was one way to find out.

* * *

They were the only passengers on the little ferry boat. Rusty grabbed Danny's hand and strolled to the starboard side where none of the crew would see them.

"Let's watch the sun set," he whispered in Danny's ear. "It's been more than a year since I've seen the sun set over the water."He bumped up against Danny.

"The desert sunsets are spectacular." Rusty was still holding Danny's hand. "But this...this..." He trailed off and just gazed out at the water. He wasn't playing with Danny now. He wasn't teasing. He'd become serious. Remembering ...

He shuddered a little, the stress, the tension of the job still with him. There had been some very bad moments at the end and he had yet to fully relax, to feel safe.

Danny sensed it immediately. He'd been hyper-aware of Rusty anyways, but there was something in the way his voice shook, just slightly, and the way his hand gripped Danny's, that said he needed him.

"Rus..." Danny didn't need to ask if he wanted to talk about it.

Rusty drew a deep breath and squeezed Danny's hand tightly. He massaged little circles at Danny's wrist, feeling his pulse, feeling how alive he was. Rusty didn't have to put it in words either. The words were understood...not ready yet...soon. I promise.

* * *

The house was amazing. From the outside it looked like a typical Floridian beach cottage. But it was private...no neighbors for a mile in either direction. Gourmet kitchen, fully stocked bar, pool, hot tub and outside living room, a movie and audio system that would make professional sound men weep with envy. The grounds swept right down to the white sand beach.

Rusty tossed his bag into one of the bedrooms, kicked off his shoes, and headed outside. He wanted to let the dampness of the humid Florida night soak into his skin. He'd been arid for so long. The dew on the short Bermuda grass, the soothing sound of the surf, the smell of the honeysuckle that was climbing with wild abandon over a pergola... It was all a balm to his raw soul. Soothing a burn, a lingering wound.

And then Danny was next to him, handing him a drink. Whiskey. He drank deeply, trying to empty his mind of thoughts of sand and blood and flies.

Side by side, they walked down to the water. The warm water of the gulf surged over their bare feet, soaking their pants legs.

Danny said, "We should have taken a minute to change. The water's perfect right now. It'd be great for a swim."

And just like Danny knew (hoped) he would, Rusty gave him a wicked grin and reached over to unbutton Danny's shirt. His nimble fingers teased the buttons open...slowly...slowly, starting from the top...carefully working his way down, exposing Danny's chest. He let his thumb drag against Danny's skin and paused as the last button fell open.

Then Rusty turned around, and almost coyly, stripped out of his shirt and pants. He stood there, with his back to Danny, impossibly golden in the silver moonlight, wearing only the tiniest pair of black bikini briefs. Danny's mouth was dry. Damn, whiskey was gone. Should have brought the bottle.

Then Rusty was laughing and running towards the surf. "Come on! You're right the water is amazing!"

And Danny was pulling off his clothes and following. Part of him was screaming that this was a big mistake, too reckless, that he was on the verge of ruining the best thing in his life. But a bigger part was insisting that they could have this crazy, glorious new thing. And he dove in.

When they climbed out of the sea, the night air had cooled considerably. They dashed back to the house, laughing and a little bit breathless. Danny tossed a few thick Turkish towels at Rusty and then spent a moment covertly watching him dry off. "There are clothes in the bedroom, " Danny told Rusty. "I didn't think you'd have much need for shorts and swimwear in the middle of the damn desert, so I picked you up some stuff. We can go shopping tomorrow if you don't like it."

Rusty beamed his thanks and ducked into his room. Huh. Knowing Danny, there would be a bit more than shorts and flip flops in the wardrobe. Yep. The closet held everything from beach casual to designer suits and formal ware. There was even a tux - Armani - of course. The dresser drawers revealed an astonishing array of tee shirts, bathing suits, shorts, pajamas, socks and underware.

Rusty slipped into a royal blue soft wash cotton tee shirt and drawstring linen shorts. It felt so good to be comfortable. And not just in comfortable clothes. The drive, the swim and the booze had relaxed him. Being here with Danny ... He could be himself, not play a role for the first time in more than a year. He could think about doing what he wanted, just because he could, not because it was part of the job. And God that job had been...NO.

Not now. Not on this first night, this first good night. Later, he knew, Danny would force it out of him. Not aggressively. He wouldn't even ask directly. But over the next few days, or weeks, or however long it took, Danny would silently encourage him to talk about the past year. What went right, what was amazing, and what went wrong. How he'd been hurt. Who did the hurting. And while Rusty would always remember all the details, the good and the bad (his brain just worked that way) after letting Danny in, he'd be able to accept it, to move on, to heal. The job would be truly over.

But not tonight. Tonight was about reunion and friendship, and new possibilities.

* * *

Danny, wearing his usual black, looked dangerous and competent and sexy. He had fired up the grill and was throwing some amazing looking filets onto the coals. Nina Simone played softly in the background. He reached into a cooler and tossed Rusty a Heinekin.

"Hungry?" Danny laughed.

"I could eat, " Rusty laughed back, cracking open the beer and drinking deeply.

"Steaks won't take long. Here...to hold you over." And Danny took a platter of chilled seafood out of the fridge.

Rusty hummed with appreciation and selected an oyster on the half shell. He tipped his had back and swallowed hungrily. He put his thumb in his mouth and sucked off a drop of mignonette sauce. Danny swallowed and clutched his beer bottle. Rusty caught him staring and grinned wickedly. Then Danny reached for one. It was plump and succulent. It was Rusty's turn to watch him eat, imagining the feeling of the sweet then briny morsel on his tongue.

Maybe it was a cliche, but eating oysters with Danny Ocean was turning into one of the most sensual experience of Rusty's life. After watching Danny do something obscene with his tongue and hot sauce, Rusty was ready to throw himself across the table. He bit his lip and had just shifted, getting ready to rise, when the grill's timer went off.

The mood changed, from something dark and smokey and heavy with desire to something lighter, more usual, more comfortable. Danny smirked, stole the last oyster off Rusty's plate, and headed outside to tend to the steaks.

Rusty followed with a bottle of red wine. Somehow, magically, Danny had produced a set table and dinner - expertly grilled filet mignon accompanied by roasted heirloom tomatoes and perfect tiny goat cheese soufflés.

Rusty moaned. "I really do love you."

Danny grinned wickedly, Just wait for dessert." Rusty actually shivered in anticipation.

They talked companionably as they ate. Danny caught Rusty up on the whereabouts of friends and colleagues; regaled him with some of the more outrageous jobs and lighthearted stunts that Frank and Basher and Phil had pulled this year.

"With a water balloon and a set of golf clubs..."

"I thought he was allergic to lemons"

"Walked out the door with six million in sapphires and a bad case of..."

"...huh, who knew."

"Reuben redecorated Xanadu. It's spectacular."

"Maybe we should plan a Vegas trip."

After a sinful dessert - dark chocolate mousse - they hit the hot tub and watched the stars. They were sitting side by side. Rusty was practically boneless he was so relaxed. Every now and then, the force of the spa jets would bump their legs together. Rusty hooked his ankle around Danny's. Sighed contentedly.

Danny kept his eyes on the heavens. They'd turned off all the lights, comfortable in the dark. The stars blazed across the sky. Rusty was pressed against his side now, his head on Danny's shoulder. Danny thought about those lips, how he'd taste, how the stubble on his jaw would feel...and he turned his head to ..finally...finally...

And Rusty was asleep. Jet lag, the drive, swimming and the meal caught up with him. His eyes were closed and he was breathing lightly. Peacefully.

Danny was swamped a wave of tenderness. How he loved this man. He watched Rusty dozing for an indulgent minute before gently easing him awake.

He nuzzled his ear, breathing in the scent of chlorine, wine and Rusty.

"Hey Rus," he whispered. "Let's get you out of here and dried off. Come on...easy...Shhh. I've got you."

Danny eased Rusty out of the hot tub. Even mostly asleep, Rusty cooperates, instinctively and unconsciously trusting Danny to take care of him. He kept his arms around him as he got Rusty back inside and dried off. Danny had Rusty tucked under crisp cotton sheets and was debating crawling in next to him. He was so tempted. And they'd slept side by side innumerable times before. Rusty wouldn't mind.

He wanted to wrap his arms around him and hold him all night. Danny wanted to match his breaths to Rusty's. He wanted to fall asleep feeling beat of his pulse in his wrist. He wants so much.

Danny bent down and kissed Rusty's forehead, his cheek and his lips. Then, with a small shudder, and once last glance, he softly closed the door and went, alone, to his own bed.

* * *

A/N - You like? You want more? I know where this goes in my head, but if it's not your brand of vodka this could be a one-shot. Just lemme know. We aim to please.


	2. Chapter 2 Choices

A/N - This is dedicated to Otherhawk. She'll know why.

* * *

Rusty woke up late the next morning. He stretched like a cat and wandered out to the kitchen. There was coffee, pastry and a big bowl of strawberries, but no sign of Danny. Rusty ignored the fruit, grabbing a chocolate croissant and a giant mug of coffee.

He sipped tentatively having become addicted to the thick Turkish brew in Egypt. It was one of the few pleasant things about that job. Well the ten million didn't hurt either, nor did he regret conning that bastard Mahmoud. But that coffee. It's really the little things, the details, that make life grand.

So, he sipped gingerly expecting a watery cafe Americano. Ahhh, Danny. Shouldn't have doubted you. Apparently his taste in java had improved over the past year. It wasn't Faroq's blend, brewed over the campfire out at the dig site, so thick you expected it to cling to the spoon, but the Hawaiian roast was dark and rich and delicious.

Out of habit, he flipped through the newspaper, noting gallery openings, museum exhibits, celebrity sightings, mergers and acquisitions. It all got filed away, you never knew when some trivial bit of news would be useful, but Rusty's heart wasn't in it. He drained the mug, brushed off some croissant crumbs and got up to explore.

The little black convertible was gone, but Rusty saw a sexy black and silver motorcycle in the garage stall. He laughed. Danny hated it when he rode. He must have really missed him to have that thing around. He ran his hands appreciatively over the leather and chrome, toying with taking it for a spin. But despite his full nights sleep, he couldn't muster the energy. Later he promised himself.

Rusty went back inside and rummaged around in one of the dresser drawers. He started to pull on a pair of neon orange board shorts when he saw it. Laughing, he put on the scrap of black nylon and checked himself out in the full length mirror. Why not? He decided he could get away with the speedo and headed out to the pool.

Danny found him there a few hours later. He'd gone into Pensacola to meet the very nervous mark in his long con. They had a standing Monday morning breakfast meeting and Danny'd put too much into the job at this point to fuck it up because of a missed meeting. The mark's anxieties soothed (for the next 24 hours at least) Danny shook his hand and watched him scurry out the door. He'd be so glad when this job was over.

Remembering Rusty's list of basic necessities, he'd stopped at the farmers market and picked up a case of salsa, homemade by 3 sisters who lived in a ram-shackled cottage by the sea and grew their own chilis. When he told them who it was for, they threw in a basket of fresh tortillas and some limes from the tree in their backyard.

Then, remembering the success of last night's mousse, Danny visited a stand where a tiny old woman with curly white hair and eyes that were almost as blue as Rusty's sold him a dense, almost truffle like, chocolate whiskey cake.

On the drive home, Danny entertained himself wild fantasies about how Rusty would react to the cake.

He pulled into the drive and caught a glimpse of a blond head peeking out from behind a lounge chair. Ahhh, day at the pool, perfect. Danny stowed the food and changed out of his suit. He grabbed a pitcher of something icy and rum based and joined his friend. He set the pitcher down and turned to Rusty.

"Hey, Rus. Just had to run into town. Part of the job..." but his explanation stuttered to a halt as he look down at Rusty. Rusty was lying on his stomach. He'd been reading...something... was that Russian...Danny's mind flashed past the details: miles of golden legs, a scrap of black cloth stretching across his bottom, the coconut scented sunscreen glistening on his shoulders...and as Rusty rolled over, evidence that he was apparently very, very happy to see Danny. He may have forgotten to breathe and was quite sure his heart wasn't supposed to be beating this fast.

Rusty was grinning wickedly when he rolled off the chaise, but he saw something on Danny's face that made him feel suddenly shy and unsure. What the hell was he doing? And perversely, torn between the need to run away, to not be rejected and the need to run towards him, to be wanted, he stood up and shimmied out of the speedo. He glided over to the pool and plunged in.

And he realized as the water enveloped him, that he'd been falling in love with Danny for more than a decade. That unconsciously, sub consciously, unknowingly, completely, he'd chosen this on some long ago night on a porch in New Jersey. And he didn't know what he was doing. And he didn't know what he would do if Danny didn't choose him back. And he was terrified and exhilarated and he'd never wanted anything so badly in all his life.

Oh god, oh god,oh god ...Danny. Please be there, please be there. Please don't go. Please choose me.

And when he surfaced, Danny was at the edge of the pool already reaching for him. And then he was moving and found himself face to face with Danny. He lifted his hands and cupped Danny's face gently. He looked frankly into those deep brown eyes.

What are we doing here?

Anything you want.

I want you.

Always?

Yes.

Oh yes.

Yeah. Oh yeah.

And Rusty leaned forward and kissed him. Gently, still questioning...because this was his heart and it was Danny and...he could always read Danny and then he knew...the choice had been made a long time ago. By both of them.

They tumbled into bed. Touching and kissing. Gloriously familiar and yet irrevocably new. He knew this body, but had never touched him just there on his thigh. Never tasted, just there at the base of his throat. Never arched into him and come with the blazing force of an exploding star.

And afterwards they curled together, like they had never done a thousand times before. And he reached for his hand and brought it to his lips. And they fell asleep to the sound of the sea.


	3. Chapter 3 Observations

A/N - Don't own them. Sighs pitifully.

* * *

Danny woke up just as the sun was thinking about rising. The bedroom was still in shadows. They'd left the window open to catch the night breeze. The curtains waved a lazy good morning. It was quiet. He looked at Rusty, relaxed in sleep...truly relaxed, not the boneless slouch he affected sometimes. Danny knew the slouch was a mask...it said, ignore me, I'm lazy and disrespectful and beneath your consideration. Danny knew it concealed watchfulness and uneasiness and a healthy dose of fuck you.

But now, Rusty was relaxed. His hands were still, not moving, distracting a mark, shuffling a new deck of cards or unwrapping a pack of gum. Those hands that hadn't been still a few hours ago. Those hands that took Danny apart and then put him back together. Danny thought Rusty could probable make him come with just those hands...no mouth or cock...just those glorious, strong, clever, clever hands.

Unable to resist, Danny picked up one of Rusty's hands. Turned it over and studied it. Short blunt fingernails. Tanned skin with just a dusting of the finest golden hair. He'd seen these hands dance over the combination to a Sargent and Greenleaf 8500 lock and he'd seen them clench into hard fists. He'd seen these hands, with fingers, long and dexterous, hot wire a car in less than 60 seconds and literally pull a rabbit out of a hat.

These were the hands that held back a woman's hair as she wretched into a basin, the hands that held the pain and indignity of her cancer at bay. These were the hands that held that woman's own as she drew her last breath and the hands that cast her ashes out into the sea. These were then hands that held Danny as he cried for another loss in his young life. The hands that cupped his face while he wordlessly shouted "I love you" and said aloud, "I've got you."

He kissed the palm. Just a chaste pressing of dry lips to the smooth surface. Then he touched with the tip of his tongue. Salty, and something organic ...the taste of Rusty. He ran his tongue lightly over the lines of Rusty's palm: life line, love, head, heart...Reuben would have some crazy notion about what each represented. Danny just traced them, memorizing, tasting. He knew what they meant.

Rusty was awake now, Danny could tell. But he hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. Just a slight hitch to his breathing; the pulse in his wrist beating just that much faster. He watched the pulse beat. Just there under the delicate skin of his wrist. Danny lifted it to his mouth and sucked gently, feeling the pulse on his tongue. Prodding, licking, feeling life course under his lips.

Rusty hummed sleepily. Happily.

Danny kissed his way up to Rusty's thumb. Nibbling delicately on the pad and down the webbing. There was a tiny silver scar from long ago...a fish hook, freezing water and a rare moment of clumsiness. Danny paused there, using his lips to apologize for the pain, the hurt, the blood.

And Rusty brushed his thumb against Danny's mouth, remembering, forgiving (because Danny was asking for it and Rusty could never deny Danny anything) and thanking all at once.

And then Rusty drew another finger to Danny's lips. And Danny kissed the pad, gently, gently...and then drew it all the way into his mouth. And now Rusty was writhing. Moaning at the sensation, or was that Danny? And the "please, please" hung in the air between them. And Danny could never deny Rusty anything either and they came together in the morning light, hands clasped.

**A/N** \- Well, this came about when a paragraph from the Beach House AU got a little bit out of control. Hope you like.


	4. Chapter 4 Seeing Red

AN- An accident is the trigger for Rusty to finally talk about the Egyptian job.

Emotional hurt/ comfort, violence, flashbacks, slash

They were down by the water early one morning. Rusty liked the relative coolness of the water at this time of day and Danny, always a morning person, savored the quiet moments that came with the dawn.

The beach was littered with flotsam and jetsam. Shells and driftwood washed ashore with the tide. Rusty was like a crow, examining and collecting interesting pieces. He rarely kept anything, though, preferring to toss the sea stars and periwinkles back into the water. He did have an interesting collection of driftwood and some sea glass, but he never kept anything living.

Danny was strolling along the water's edge when he cut his foot on a piece of broken shell. It sliced the tender skin of his arch. He muttered a curse and sat down quickly to inspect the wound. It was small, well it wasn't huge, a couple inches long, but deep and blood was flowing freely. Probably for the best, he thought, it'll wash any debris out of there.

_There goes that shirt,_ he thought as peeled off the tee to wipe the blood from his hands.

Danny looked up to call Rusty and tell him he was heading back to the house and to head up soon for breakfast. He'd picked up some blackberries at the farmers market and thought he could entice Rusty with crepes...a breakfast-dessert hybrid.

"Hey, Rus..."

Rusty was standing a few feet away. He was staring at the blood stained sand, face pale, hands shaking.

Danny was at his side in an instant. "Hey, hey Rusty, buddy. I'm ok. Just a little cut. You know how those things bleed like crazy." He gave Rusty a little shake. "Come on, Rus. Come back to me." Danny put his all into the command. Nothing. Then he tried another tactic.

"Rusty. I've got to get up to the house and take care of my foot. I'm gonna need your help. Can you help me?"

The appeal for help did it. Rusty, eyes still shockingly wide, broke off staring at the blood and looked at Danny. He shook himself and reached out to steady Danny, who was now balancing on one foot.

"God, yes. I'm sorry." He was all business now. And if the hand that grasped Danny was a little bit clammy and Danny could feel Rusty's pulse racing just a little bit faster than their three legged hobble back to the house could explain away, well Danny would get to the bottom of it soon enough.

And so 40 minutes later, after antiseptic and gauze and a serious, one sided conversation about a few sutures (a few years ago they'd made Stan show them how, and Rusty, with his clever, clever hands, took to it like he was a surgeon born) Danny was propped in a cushioned lounge chair by the pool munching blackberries and sipping a frothy iced cappuccino.

He watched Rusty flit manically around the house, putting away the first aid kit, fooling around with the espresso machine, arranging and rearranging their growing collections of driftwood and sea glass. Danny knew better than to push.

He knew the story wouldn't be told in the sunshine drenched daylight hours. The few hints Rusty had dropped over the past weeks were enough that Danny knew it would be a story suited to the nighttime, to the shadows. It would be a story that started with short brusque sentences and little detail, but that would build like a tsunami and crest with long breathless waves of emotion. The story would end abruptly and Rusty would be drained. And Danny would gather him in his arms and together they will start to put the pieces backs together.

But it was barely 10o'clock in the morning and there wasn't a cloud in sight. Danny wistfully thought of storm clouds and solar eclipses, but knew Rusty would spend the next ten hours working himself into a state of anxiety and tension.

By noon, Danny was ready to suggest Rusty take the motorcycle out for a drive, but Rusty refused to leave him alone.

"For gods sake Rus, it's a tiny cut, not a gunshot wound." But at the look of utter devastation on Rusty's face, Danny bit his lip and let it go.

Trying to keep up the pretense of normality, the pretense that the were holed up for the day because of his injury, Danny put Tangerine Dream on the stereo and spent the afternoon reading background material on Newman Industries shareholders. He pretended at patience, and it was only because Rusty was so distracted, reliving the events of the past year in his own mind, that he didn't tease Danny about it.

At three o'clock, Rusty was sitting at the bar by the pool, sipping whiskey and obsessively rubbing his lower lip. Danny kept his eye n the level in the bottle and the hunch of Rusty's shoulders. He wanted to go to him, but knew instinctively it wasn't the right time. Danny hated waiting. Hated it.

At 5, Danny put away his files and joined Rusty with the intention of getting him to eat something other than pretzels and cheese puffs. Rusty looked exhausted, like he'd spent the day in a hospital waiting room, instead of sitting poolside in Florida. Danny mentally kicked himself at the thought, because he knew Rusty well enough to know that Rus had been reliving the entire past year. The whole year, every detail preserved in his mind. He'd been living it like it happened yesterday.

Almost. Almost there.

Danny poured them both a drink. "I need to eat something. Should I fire up the grill, or you want to order in?"

Rusty was still a little bit lost in his own head, but not so much that he didn't see what Danny was doing now. Anybody else tried something like this, he'd be out the door, half way to the next city, state, country, continent. But it's Danny. He can't run from Danny ... Doesn't even want to run. And apparently as much as he's tried, he can't run from the past. And he knows Danny is here because he loves him and doesn't want him to shatter into a million sparkling pieces...pretty, but broken and dangerous.

He rubbed his glass against his temple and then gave Danny a rueful smile. "Let's just throw something together. I can't face anyone but you tonight, even a delivery guy."

And so they ate together, quietly, just taking comfort in each other's company. Not needing to fill the space with chatter or banter. Saving the words for what was coming.

And so, finally, as the sun was setting over the gulf, a balmy breeze wrapping around them, Danny and Rusty sat down, side by side, shoulders brushing, together. Danny wanted to hold Rusty's hand, but knew to wait.

Finally, finally, reluctantly voice gravelly and slow, but finally, Rusty started talking:

_A year ago, I left New York for London and then Cairo. You know that much. You know that Bobby introduced me to William Emerson who is his counterpart at Interpol. He'd been tracking Sallah el Azir for a long time. Real bad guy. Guns, drugs, human trafficking, rumors of selling Russian weapons to terrorist organizations. But untouchable. Too close to the powers that be in the Egyptian military. His one weakness though was an obsession with Egyptian artifacts and antiquities. _

_Emerson got a tip that Azir had invested heavily in an unofficial archaeological dig. He'd promised his benefactors in the military that the return would be astronomical. Interpol had a chance to place someone inside, the opportunity of a lifetime…but they balked. Emerson didn't get authorization and was being watched too closely to use any of his unofficial network. _

_He'd been commiserating to Bobby at some international gathering of law enforcement, when my name came up name came up. Not my real name of course, but the name on my degree. On my degree in archaeology. _

_That, plus my ability with languages and well, my unparalleled skills at the con gave them the idea that I'd be the perfect inside man. _He actually had the temerity to grin at Danny as he said this last bit. Danny had to stifle the urge to stick out his tongue. Of course Rusty knew it anyways.

_It made perfect sense, Danny. Azir was a real bastard. He needed taken down. The opportunity was once in a lifetime. And I was the only guy who he could trust, that was available, who had the necessary skills. Plus, Bobby asked. You know…Bobby. He NEVER asks us for anything. We're always after him for favors and… well…I felt like he was owed. _

_So, the job was on and within a month, I was landing in Cairo, headed to the Valley of the Kings to join the dig._


End file.
